


Ad Astra

by thattrainssailed



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Poetry, space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 06:39:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14711024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thattrainssailed/pseuds/thattrainssailed
Summary: Magnus Bane’s atmosphere comes out of nowhere and Alec doesn’t realise he’s in the gravity of it until he’s being pulled too strongly to change route. The heat is overpowering as he falls, because he’s not longer drifting, he’s falling, and he always knew this was coming but he still can’t help but wish he’d let himself break apart into that dark vacuum when he had the chance.





	Ad Astra

Alec Lightwood spends his first twenty years surrounded by stars and planets. The light of it almost blinds him, and he finds himself constantly dodging swooping orbits as they threaten to collide with him and turn him to dust. It’s a million kilometres of travel before he realises he’s different; smaller and continuously hurtling. He has none of the stubbornness of the stars, settled into their place and watching everything around them, nor none of the spellbinding paths of the planets. Their orbits curve and widen and intersect, but they remain familiar. Alec doesn’t have that tether. Instead he careens through the sky without control. Dark oblivion spills out in all directions, yet none of the bodies around him pay any mind to his aimless trajectory. They wave and he waves back, and he slowly finds that he is easily mistaken for a planet.

He somehow knows that eventually there will be an impact. He can only gather his dust close in the hopes that when it happens, his asteroid won’t be entirely destroyed.

It’s an easy existence to settle into. The older he gets the busier things get at the Institute, whether by coincidence or simply by his own awareness. Tougher, more frequent training rids Alec of the moments of reflection he was so prone to when he was younger; there’s a vague relief in ending every day so tired that he can simply fall onto his lumpy mattress and sleep until dawn calls for his energy.  Days blur into months blur into years, and Alec finds himself thinking that hurtling isn’t all that bad. He can blend in as a planet. His aimlessness is mistaken for a particularly wide orbit.

Perhaps he can manufacture a circuit from this. Wake up, train, go on missions, report back. Try to appease his parents. Start to speak up during meets. Make sure his siblings don’t go supernova. Maybe, Alec thinks, doesn’t have to worry so much about where his trajectory ends.

And then he crashes.

Magnus Bane’s atmosphere comes out of nowhere and Alec doesn’t realise he’s in the gravity of it until he’s being pulled too strongly to change route. The heat is overpowering as he falls, because he’s not longer drifting, he’s _falling_ , and he always knew this was coming but he still can’t help but wish he’d let himself break apart into that dark vacuum when he had the chance.

Alec stands in his crater. The rim is outlined by his colleagues, his family, the Clave. They stare as Alec is finally exposed as an asteroid, his dust alien, this impact destined from the very beginning. And there amongst them, sitting on the lip of the pit with his legs dangling over the edge, is Magnus. He isn’t watching with the rest of them. No, he’s looking around, eyes drifting to each of the spectators in turn, his mouth intermittently quirking up. He looks up at the sky and his chin slowly floats down, as if tracing Alec’s route, until he’s gently gazing at the man in the crater. He smiles.

Alec takes a step forward. His hands find purchase on the rough curves of his impact. He starts to climb.

He isn’t sure what to expect when he reaches the lip. He knows that planets have no homogeneity. The swirling dust storms of Jace’s rich, red land are visible even from outside the atmosphere. Izzy’s glittering sea engulfs her surface, obscuring the varied life that swim beneath. Even their mother has her distinct cloud cover.

Magnus’ landscape is lush grass and dense trees, a gentle breeze ruffling blades and leaves. Alec's crater is in the middle of a field, scorch marks tracing the circumference before fading back into healthy shoots and tiny flowers. Around it is a circling forest, the trees old and tall, each trunk seemingly carved with something different, although Alec can’t tell from far away. And in front of him, Magnus, a hand reaching out to pull Alec the final few metres out of the crater. He takes it.

The crowd has dispersed during his climb. They return to their own orbits, to their Institutes and homes. The gossip spreads, about an asteroid of a shadowhunter who fell from space for a warlock. They whisper, but their glares are hidden by distance. A few observers remain - his siblings, his mother, some friends - but they make no move towards him as he stands still gripping Magnus’ hand. They just smile, and a tug from the warlock leads Alec away from them. He isn’t certain, but he suspects that new flowers grow from Magnus’ footprints.

They walk until they the crater is far behind them and the edge of the forest looms just a few hundred metres away. Alec wonders if they’ll venture into the undergrowth, but Magnus stops and lowers himself to the ground. Alec follows his lead and they lay in the soft grass facing one another, fingers still tangled between them. The sounds of Magnus’ planet call around them in a lulling melody. The sky is bright and unobscured above them. Magnus smiles and there are galaxies in his eyes.

Alec wonders how a gorgeous body like Magnus could be so happy to have such an impact. To be invaded by something so pointless and rough as Alec. His mouth forms his memories of drifting through space, of his inconsequential existence in the face of astonishing celestial bodies. When his closes his lips, there’s stillness except for the breeze blows cool against his skin. Magnus’ palm comes to his cheek to warm it.

“My darling,” he says, “you are starstuff.”

**Author's Note:**

> Listen. I love space and I love Alec Lightwood. This was inevitable.
> 
> I post more writing on [tumblr](https://thattrainssailed.tumblr.com/)! Come yell at me.


End file.
